The Missing Link
by Elven-Princess Ginny
Summary: Ch. 5 finally up! Jerry was too right for his own good. Angel needs to work out his priorities. Jack needs to be more careful. Bobby will do anything to protect his family. And Hannah... will come home.
1. Cleaning Up the Trash

**The Missing Link**

Alrighty, people, welcome to my Four Brothers story. I have been working on this for a while, since I saw the movie back in August, but it was mostly just working out the characters, and the plotline. I really started to work on it when I got the movie for Christmas, and so here is the first chapter! It is an AU story, as I made Jack survive, because I couldn't bare not having him there... anyway, here you go!

I obviously do not own the Brothers or anything related to them, just the things that you don't recognize from the movie. Though I would _love_ to own Bobby... or Jackie... or Angel...

Ooooh, okay, The Missing Link is just a working title, and will probably be changed sooner or later. I just needed a title and it was the only thing I could think of, even if it is really lame.

Chapter One  
_Cleaning Up the Trash_

"Angel!" whined a handsome male in his early twenties as he slowly descended the staircase of their home. He was a skinny one, and tall as well; the tallest of his entire family, in fact, standing at 6'2". The joint proclamation of this male's brothers regarding a reason for his scrawniness was that he'd never been in the military, nor prison, and he still smoked, a habit he'd picked up over a decade ago. Reasonable reasons as they were, the youngest of the four Mercer brothers took no incentive to start bulking up; he said it was pointless – he was a rock star, he had his choice of mounds of female fans, so there was no reason. This male was a rock star indeed, if only a middle-class one. He had the signature cool leather jacket (which he wore everywhere, even then as he walked around his home), of course he played the guitar for his own band (or used to – they hadn't played together in months), and he sand. What a beautiful voice he had – his mother always told him so, and would often request of him a song, greatly embarrassing him. His light brown hair was always a mess, but his eyes –almost adark, forest shade of green – were pretty enough to make anybody fall for him, just by looking into them.

Jack Mercer called to the sibling he was closest to age-wise once again, hopping from the third-last stair to the floor. With a whiny undertone to his voice, he stepped into the kitchen to discover the youngest of his older siblings retreating from the refrigerator, beer in hand.

"What are you bitching about now, white boy?" inquired Angel, leaning his back against the counter and lifting the opening of the beverage to his mouth. He wasn't quite as tall as his little brother, but he wasn't that far off either. Angel was strong and kind of muscular, and no doubt could throw his youngest sibling the length of the house without much effort. His head was shaved of hair, to his siblings' great amusement, and he had a smile that would put everybody in Hollywood to shame. Dogtags hung around his neck most of the time, and on warm summer afternoons their silver shininess contrasted magnificently against his bare chocolate chest. This, however, wasn't by far one of those "warm summer afternoons" – it was a freezing morning in the dead center of a Detroit winter, and he was wearing a baggy old T-shirt and a comfortable pair of navy blue lounge pants.

The younger brother flung a ball of material at his sibling, who caught it with ease in his vacant hand. Angel placed his drink on the countertop before grasping the material in both hand and hastily shaking it out. His expression altered from curious to perplexed as he glanced between his little brother and the skimpy black lingerie in his hands. After a moment he offered a goofy grin. "What's this, fairy? Finally found a dude kinky enough to wear women's lingerie?"

"Shut up you bastard," quipped Jack. "That's Sofi's." At the name, Jack's voice lowered a couple octaves, almost to a growl. "I found it on my floor." He crossed his arms and scowled in an attempt to appear dangerous, while his colored brother shook his head. "Angel, this is getting way too fucking annoying. Bad enough we have to live with her, hear you two fight, and then hear y'all make up, but finding that shit? In my fucking bedroom? That's damn disturbing, man. Brother, start cleaning up after La Vida Loca! And don't give me any of that, 'you're just jealous 'cause I got a woman and you don't' shit, because it ain't gonna work."

Angel made a sour-looking face for a moment before shrugging. "Don't throw a hissyfit now, fairy. I'll have a talk with her once she gets home, okay?"

"You know if I was Bobby she wouldn't be calling this place _home_ no more, right? He ain't as forgiving as me; he'd throw her and all her shit out into the streets before she can say onomatopoeia."

The African-American man in his mid-twenties paused for a moment in thought before nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I can't even say that _honor-made-a-piss_ word, whatever the fuck it is." He returned his beer to the fridge and went to exit the room, pausing momentarily to ruffle Jack's messy hair with his free hand. "I'll go scour Bobby's room before he gets back; he finds anything in there he'll be pissed."

* * *

Big brother Bobby never arrived home until mid-afternoon, ignoring his siblings' inquiries about where he'd escaped to – Angel had awoken at 9, and Bobby had already been gone by that time. Ascending the stairway after kicking off his boots and throwing his jacket over the banister, he barked something about the devil living with them and corrupting the angel and the innocent. Curious as to why Bobby was ranting about his woman (and it what obvious that this was regarding Sofi), Angel waited a moment before following in his brother's footsteps – literally. 

"Bobby?" inquired the black male to his eldest sibling, standing outside a closed door.

Said brother sat on his bed; well, it was his bed now, it used to belong to his mother, but she was murdered a couple of months ago. The four Mercer brothers had taken revenge on Detroit, to get back at those responsible for his angelic mother's demise. Of course, they had almost lost one of their own in their vengeful quest; luckily, Jack had made it through, thanks only to a man they didn't recognize. Jack had told him everything he remembered about the guy, but that wasn't much because of the nature of the situation. They had searched for the person who aided them, but had come up short, and weren't about to go door-to-door to inquire about the shootout of a couple months ago.

_Flashback:_

"_JACK!" Bobby yelled from inside their home. He'd tried to get out to help his littlest brother, but it was useless; those people from the mysterious van were raining gunfire upon the Mercer house relentlessly. Jack had to hold on, he had too… if he died, Bobby would never be able to forgive himself. He'd been too involved in taking his anger out on Jeremiah to notice Jack venture outside to see who was outside. Maybe if he'd just given Jerry the benefit of the doubt, or at least a chance to explain himself, or just been _civil_ about it, he might have been able to protect Jack._

"_BOBBY!" the youngest Mercer returned his brother's call. His voice sounded so pained and terrified, it could have instantly ripped one's heart apart. People should never, ever scream like that; it could bring tears to anybody's eyes, and nearly did just that to the male he shouted to. He's been shot in the shoulder after exiting the house, and was currently bleeding profusely and staining the snow atop which he rested, writhing in pain. Tears were coming to his eyes and he was sweating, despite the extremely low temperature – it was, of course, winter in Detroit._

_The battle for Jack's life began. Bobby and Angel were shooting like madmen from their posts inside the house, hoping beyond hope that they could save their brother. Sofi had been told to go to the back of the house to escape the gunfire – nobody was concerned, at the moment, with where Jeremiah was. Just as heavy fire rained upon their household and Bobby had to crouch for cover behind the brick wall, Jack's blurred vision showed him a dark-clothed, pale-faced figure leaning over him. 'Oh, shit…' thought the youngest Mercer, groaning and wishing for his brothers to come outside, 'it's one of those fucking hockey-mask freaks… they're going to kill me…'_

"_Jackie?" inquired a shaky, masculine voice, originating from the pale-faced person. "Fuck, Jack!" The stranger was exasperated, kneeling next to him in the snow on his injured side. "Don't worry, Mercer, don't worry, I won't let you die. You're going to be alright." With that, and a sharp, painful gasp from the injured male, the stranger applied pressure to the wound, hoping to help. As he began carefully tending to the injury, he calmly stated, "Just keep breathing, Ja –"_

"_BOBBY!" he screamed again, fearing even more for his life. That hurt like hell, how could it save his life? He needed _his brothers_, and he would not accept help from anybody who wasn't a sibling. There was an upside to this stranger – he could protect him from any more flying bullets. Jack's eyes widened visibly as he gazed behind the new arrival to the fight; somebody was coming towards them, firearm in hand and aimed. "Behind you, fucker!"_

_After freezing for a moment, the mysterious person swung around, his arm at a right angle, and struck their assailant in the knee with his elbow. There was a grunt of pain from the attacker as his knee went out of place; he swiftly took aim and placed his finger on the trigger. Seeing this, Jack's rescuer rose to his feet and knocked the weapon so that it pointed into the air, and let the man shoot once. Then he took hold of the barrel of the gun and began beating on the man's forearm ruthlessly with his fist. After feeling a hand grab at his hair, the stranger elbowed the enemy ferociously in the face and chest, and then once in the neck. Out of sheer pain, the evil person collapsed._

"_Jack; are you alright?" inquired the stranger, kneeling back down, while he bit his bottom lip. "Please say you're okay."_

"_JACK!" yelled Bobby's voice suddenly, out of the chaotic mess of noise that had been occupying the last couple of minutes. "Get the _fuck_ away from my brother, asshole!" Strong, hurried footsteps were pounding their way towards the pair on the ground; it sounded like 3 pairs of feet: the three other Mercer brothers._

_The savior looked up hurriedly, knowing that with young Jack in this condition they were not likely to believe that he'd been helping him; actually, they'd probably shoot him on the spot, not giving them the chance to inquire as to whether he'd been about to kill the youngest Mercer or not. The man rose and fled over the snow and out of their sight; they were much too worried with Jack to go chasing people at the moment. _

"_Just hang in there, you fairy… keep breathing… don't die on me…" Bobby's sobs came._

_End of Flashback_

Jack hadn't been killed that day, luckily. He says it was all because of that stranger, that guy who was looking out for him… but who was it? None of them knew. None of them could even hazard a guess as to who Jack's guardian was. It's had been a couple months since the accident – it was January now – and Jack healed up just fine. Of course, he was in the hospital for near two weeks before they released him (early, at Bobby's "forceful" request), and they were still hesitant to make him do any physically demanding work, "for his safety". This included hockey. Jack was convinced that his brothers were trying to get him back for being stupid enough to go outside in the midst of everything that was happening.

Bobby's was red-faced at the moment, something he usually wasn't. Sure, he could lose his temper easily, especially when his family was concerned, but he wasn't one of those red-faced, vein-popping, freaking out people. He was a "shut the fuck up before I blast your ass into last decade" kind of guy.

He was the shortest of all his brothers, around 5'10", and had some fair muscle on him. Being the eldest, he of course felt responsible for anything that happened to his family, and also felt that it was his responsibility to take care of it. Most women would find him irresistibly attractive, which he enjoyed very much, but he didn't really go for one-night stands. Or, at least, his brothers didn't think he did. Bobby had dark hair that was normally slicked back, and a small bit of facial hair that gave him that dangerous and almost rugged appearance. His attire could have been considered punk-ish, where he usually wore baggy pants, and often hooded sweatshirts.

Angel's knuckles rapped against the door, coupled with a slightly irritated, "Bobby?"

"What do you want, dipshit?" the white male growled, discarding his black hoodie into the closet.

The other brother slowly and cautiously opened the door, entering with a slightly upset look on his face. "What did Sofi do now, man? 'Cause you ain't usually bitch about her like that unless she just did something to really piss you off."

Bobby glared at his brother as he leaned back onto his comfortable bed. "Don't start with me, boy. She was disturbing business, interrupting me… you're just lucky all I'm doing is yelling about her, instead of kicking her ass – and yours – out. So just go clean up the house or something, and have La Vida Loca get some food ready. I'm hungry."

Angel peered skeptically at his oldest brother, before nodding, exiting their mother's former room, and shutting the door. Looking ceiling-ward, the colored man ran a hand over his face and mumbled, though only audible to him, "Love you, Ma… wish you was back here." "Sofi, baby!" he then called as a door slammed downstairs. He slowly walked back to the staircase leading downward, and stopped at the top, looking down at her. "I need to talk to you."

"No, you need to talk to that damn brother of yours, Ang –" she snapped, her voice beginning to rise to a level where Bobby could surely hear.

"Sofi, _shut up_. We need to talk."

She sighed, bringing a hand up to clutch her aching forehead, and began to ascend the stairs. She did not need to get into _another_ argument, her head already hurt like hell. When she reached him, Angel placed his hands on her waist and engaged her in a passionate kiss, ending only when Angel remembered what the senior Mercer had told him, and the conversation with the junior Mercer earlier that day. "Sofi…" he began, eyes still shut in puzzlement of what to say to make it gentler. He sighed, and then said in a stronger, more Angel-like voice, "Girl, you need to get your stuff picked up. Jack and Bobby are off the wall about it, and if you don't get everything all neat and tidy Bobby's gonna disown us."

The female pouted sexily, but when she discovered that her partner was unfazed, frowned and nodded.

"Angel!" the voice of the only female in the house yelled. The rest of the building's current occupants mentally swore, all looking in the addressee's direction with glares plastered on their faces.

He nodded slightly before drawing in a large breath. "What do you want now?"

She had moved now to the top of the stairs; they could tell because her voice was louder than it had been when she stood at the end of the hallway. "Where do you want me to put –"

"Anywhere, so long as it ain't in any of our fucking rooms, or anywhere where we'll see it! We don't need any more of a reminder that you live here that the shouting and moaning you do all the time," Bobby answered, not taking his eyes off the television, on which a hockey game was playing. He seemed to still be in a bad mood, but truthfully he was merely exhausted.

Sofi decided against a flippant reply, as she knew it would only cause more trouble than was already present in the Mercer home. Picking an armful of feminine clothing up off of the floor, she made her way down the hallway, peeking into different rooms to see what was there. "Angel, what about –"

Her boyfriend's reply was simply, "What Bobby said, a'ight?"

She sighed, and pushed open the door only to be greeted by stale air. After adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the unlit room, she shifted the clothing to one arm and allowed her free hand to explore the wall for a light switch. She looked around this room in confusion: it looked as though it had remained untouched for several months, and the dust could vouch for that. Clearly it had not been touched by the Mercer brothers since their mother's murder; everything was still neat and intact. A bed stood unruffled and still made, while a couple posters were still plastered to the walls. A pile of outdated magazines, along with many novels, leaned against the side of the bed, and everything just looked overly clean – definitely Evelyn's doing. With a shrug, she walked in and deposited some of her belongings onto the bed, disturbing it from its lifeless peace, only to notice something atop the powder blue pillow. Sofi walked over and claimed the small piece of paper into her hand, and quickly read over its sparse, quickly scribbled and yet extremely neat contents: the letter _H_ followed by several numbers; a phone number.

It took her only a moment to realize what it was, at which time she called out her boyfriend's name once again. Frustrated, he – along with another man, more than likely Bobby – started up the stairs, and straight to the room. They both paused at the door for a second, as if unsure they'd seen this room before, but shrugged it off as they entered.

"What is it now, La Vida Loca?" Bobby inquired quickly, effectively holding back his anger and annoyance with the woman.

Without missing a stride, Sofi walked over to the eldest Mercer and handed him the little slip of paper. "It was on the pillow…"

* * *

So, what did you think of it? I hope you did like it. Feel free to leave a review, if you want! It would be much apprecited. And I am already started on the second chapter, maybe I'll even have it up before school starts! ...in 2 bloody days... But if I don't have it up by then, I promise I'll have it up by the weekend! Bwahahah... 


	2. The Bitch from Hell

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  
Sorry… anyway! Yes, this is chapter two, it does exist, and now you can all read it. It went through several complications – there's three different versions of it, and when I was almost complete it I forgot my book in school on Friday, my oh so important book that hold all the dialogue and half-written stuff for this chapter, and couldn't get it until Monday. _Then_, while that was gone, I couldn't even write one word of the chapter because I knew I was going to mess it up entirely. And when I got home today, I just realized how very long chapter two was, so I decided to take part of it and use it as the chapter two that's presented here. The remainder of it is serving as chapter three, so I'm happy to report that chapter three is about half done. I highly doubt it, but I might get it done this weekend; however, it is more likely the next. Hah! Look, I'm babbling… fun! Anyway, go on and read the chapter, will ya?

Chapter Two  
_The Bitch from Hell _

From underneath the hood of a sickly purple El Camino protruded a coverall-clad bottom, which connected to a pair of slender legs. Beside the vehicle a toolbox rested, open, atop a wheeled table, with a sweating bottle of water alongside it. The female mechanic was the only person working in the small garage then, half because it was a weekend, on which few people worked, and also because the few that were present at the garage were taking their lunch break. She heard her co-workers chattering away and laughing, therefore she automatically assumed that Frankie, their resident joke-teller, had cracked another joke at her expense. Emerging from inspecting the Volvo's engine, she shook her head slightly, mentally commanding herself to ignore them, and flicked her short ponytail of dirty-blonde hair side to side.

Hannah sighed as she reached down to grab her bottled water, while wiping her free hand on a nearby rag. Although she'd never told anybody at work, it was generally assumed that she was on good terms with Frankie, and when they cracked jokes at each other it was just friendly ribbing. This was false: she'd longed, since the first time he'd 'accidentally' run his hand along her backside, to permit her fists to give him a good talking to, but she refrained. The female didn't want to earn a visit to prison if she got caught in the moment and went to far, but feared, more than anything, becoming a disappointment to her family.

She was jogged from her drinking and her thoughts as her supervisor's voice rang sharply thought the garage's stale air, loudly calling her name. Hannah snapped her head in the direction of their small lunchroom to see all the faces turned to her. Placing a forced half-smile on her face, she replaced the bottle to its spot and crossed her arms across her chest. "Get working, Hannah, or I swear this time I actually will fire your ass!" yelled the man.

The girl was just about to open her mouth when another of the males piped up. "Aw, c'mon Chad, can't we fire her and keep her ass? 'Cause that's one damn fine ass!"

"How about you shut the hell up, Frank!" she retorted, throwing him an angry glare.

Frank jokingly held a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. "Oh Hannah, you hurt me when you say such harsh words," he said, trying to sound sophisticated. She flipped him off, which emitted a noticeable 'oooh' from the previously silent men, and made the recipient lean jovially against the doorframe. "Hannah dearest, why do you injure me so?"

She shot him another glare, but was interrupted from replying by Chad. "That's enough, the both of you! And close your mouth, Hannah, because I don't wanna hear any excuses from you! Now, Frankie, I don't wanna hear another word come out of your mouth that's directed at her – and vice versa for you, Hannah! Now, are you going to tell me what made you stop working?"

"Obvious, innit?" Frank spoke up daringly. Ignoring the warning glances from his co-workers, he continued, "She was reminiscing about the night I spent with her last week. We joined each other over and over and over… and over again… so many times that my dick got tired. God, that was a good night." He grinned a sly, cocky grin directly at Hannah, while motioning down to his crotch region.

She shuddered for a moment before grinning the same mischievous smile as Frankie. "Oh, you must mean the other night when you were being an asshole and I got really pissed off at you and kicked you in the nuts so many times your dick turned black and blue! Yeah, I remember that night, that was a good night."

The rest of the guys laughed, and Frank even clapped to congratulate her. Her supervisor, however, frowned, clearly not happy about what was going on between the workers. Absentmindedly he glanced up at the large clock over the entrance to the garage and a faint smile overcame his stressed face. "Alright, boys, lunch is over, pack up your crap and get back to work. Hannah, you got half an hour, you hear me? Then it's back to work for you as well."

She nodded while pushing passed Chad and Frankie, ignoring the way the latter male's hand rubbed slightly along her hips. Hannah smiled at the remainder of her co-workers as the rose from the rectangular table, and set herself down at the end of the table, next to the refrigerator. Hauling out a bottle of Sprite and a bag of all-dressed chips, she settled down and ventured into her own little world, as she always did.

The sound that snapped her back into cold reality was her supervisor hollering, "Simms! Time's up, get back to work."

Hannah groaned at this; couldn't he let her finish her chips? She was positive it hadn't quite been half an hour, but she was not in the mood to argue and get in trouble. Not anymore, at least. She rose from her seat, chucked her nearly empty bag of chips in the garbage, and placed her Sprite in the refrigerator. "Aaron, are you even doing anything?" she inquired to a man in his mid-twenties who was leaning casually against the front desk, chatting with none other than Frankie. When he glanced over and shook his head 'no', she grinned. "Alright then, get your butt over here and work on the El Camino with me, will ya?"

"Sure thing," he agreed, straightening his posture, before looking back at Frank. "Don't even start on me, Franklin. I'm not invading your territory, and I'm definitely not trying to get into her pants, alright?" As he turned around, he heard his co-worker make the 'whipped' sound. "Shut up," was his only reaction to this as he walked over towards Hannah. "Hey, girly. So, is there so much work here that you desperately needed my help?"

She stifled a laugh as she picked up her bottle of water and took a sip. "No, actually, there's hardly anything that needs to be done. I just wanted somebody to talk to, you know that as well as I do," she told him quietly, shooting a death glare over at Frank, who was watching the pair closely. "So…" she began as she rested her butt on the wheeled board and looked up at him, "are we going out tonight? It's Couples' Night down at the club on Carson, drinks are half off."

Aaron laughed to himself. "What is the point of having a Couples' Night at a club, anyway? Half the people that go there are attached, and the ones that go there with their friends are just going to pretend they're a couple. They're just going to lose money."

"We'd fall into the second category, huh?" she questioned, laughing with him quietly. "But hey, cheap booze, we have to take advantage of it, don't we?" A mischievous smile on her lips, she motioned for her friend to place the toolbox on the floor. "We get off at five o'clock, so come pick me up at seven, okay? Okay," she finished, answering her own question.

The male squat down so he was eye-to-eye with the woman, and grinned slyly. "Too much of a decision-maker, you are… you're not going to get me drunk, take me back to your house, and rape me, are you?"

She had to laugh out loud at this; it was too funny, she couldn't hold back the chuckles. Of course, this made every other person in the garage stare at her curiously and confusedly, but that was normal. Biting the side of her hand to make herself stop laughing, she sent a goofy little smile over to her friend. "No, I can't. You can't rape the willing, Aaron. And hand me that flashlight." She leaned back on the board and held her hand out for the object, which was quickly placed on her palm.

As she slid underneath the vehicle, she was conscious of the male following the movement of her thighs, and kicked her foot out. It struck him in the kneecap, side-on, causing him to tumble sideways. His hand caught him before he landed on the cold pavement, only causing him to fall backwards instead, and land on his arse. Her laugh was lost in the echoes of her co-workers laughing at him, so she focused her attention on the car.

Aaron rose, giving the girl an annoyed slap on her shin, and scammed the bottle of water, which she had claimed ownership of. Downing the remainder of it – which was nearly half of the bottle – he flipped off his co-workers as Hannah had done not long before. Contrary to the reaction to the girl's action, however, the reaction to his was the intrusive ringing of that vile invention, the telephone. One of the guys – Craig, more than likely – whined for Jolene to answer it, only resulting in Chad's annoyed shout of, "She's on vacation! Somebody get the phone, you twits!" All of the guys were reluctant to retrieve it, and Hannah was about to slide out from underneath the El Camino when hurried footsteps rushed across the room, echoing loudly, while a voice cursed them all.

The person on the other end of the line seemed hesitant. Almost like one of those shy, love-struck teenage boys who call the girl they like, stay on the line for a few seconds, and then hang up. The breathing was slow and shallow, and when the voice spoke it was raspy, and obviously masculine. "Uh, yeah, is… Hannah Mercer there, by any chance?"

Frank paused for a moment. "Mercer?" he questioned, confused. Hannah's ears perked up at his response, and she ceased all movement to listen. "I'm sorry, but we haven't got anybody here by the name of Hannah Mercer." At the name, the female muttered a curse while the flashlight slipped from her hand and onto the floor noiselessly. "We've got a… Hannah Simms here, maybe it's her you're referring to?" Several more curses left her lips – they'd found her.

"Simms…" replied the voice, highly doubting that this was the person he was looking for. "Well… I suppose that could be her…"

The jokester grinned and held the receiver away from his ear, although not covering the speaker part. "Hannah my love, could you come take the phone?" he called to her, in a sweet voice.

Forcefully, she slid herself out, to find that all eyes in the garage were on her. She reached up to Aaron, who took her hand and hoisted her to her feet. Giving him a small smile, she turned her beautiful olive eyes to the phone-holder, whom she glared at immediately. "I'm gonna kill you after this; be warned," she mumbled, knowing he probably didn't hear her, but not giving a flying fuck. Snatching the receiver from his grasp, the female held it to her ear. "Who are you?"

"Huh?" inquired the male on the other end; she could easily hear how raspy his voice was, but decided to ignore it. "I'm Jack, Jack Mercer."

Her breath caught in her throat; so they _had_ found her. She knew that one day they would, but she'd never expected it to be quite like this. And she never though they would have taken so long to find her. Why, she hadn't heard that voice in years. "Cracker Jack…?" she questioned quietly. After hearing his immediate request for her to 'shut the hell up and stop calling him that fucking name', she was positive that it was him. "Oh, Jack…" she began, her voice at first soft, and then turning angry. "Where in the seventh circle of _HELL_ did you get this number!"

The male on the other end hesitated for a few seconds, the words '_Shit… she's pissed_' floating through his mind. Speaking slowly, and in a calming, sweet voice, he explained, "Jerry, he had it, okay? I don't know where he got it… he had your apartment number, and this number was on your answering machine." By his tone and the manner in which he was speaking, it was clear that all he was doing was attempting to keep her placid enough to talk some sense into her.

Hannah mentally cursed herself. She knew it was a lie, and not only because of the little tiny differences in his voice that most people wouldn't recognize. Shit, even after all the years she spent away from him, she still knew him like the back of her hand. "Oh, come on Cracker Jack, how you gonna play me like that? We both know you're lying to me; Jerry didn't have my number! You know how I know? None of you guys have called me in FIVE FUCKING YEARS!" She wasn't quite positive what she was upset about, but boy, was she getting angry!

Her co-workers, by this point, were utterly confused. Who the hell was this guy, and why was this call making Hannah so upset? As much as they might not have wanted to admit, they liked Hannah, and if this guy was going to do something that would change her attitude by making her angry all the time, they wouldn't have it. They would see to it that a stop was put to whatever this Jack character was doing, or going to do, however they could. Well, of course they didn't want anything to change Hannah, she and her attitude were routine; hell, she'd been working at that garage for at least three years!

When the male on the other end of the line replied, the female held the receiver at an arm's length, away from her, as the words poured out, while the garage workers jumped and stood in awe at the furious voice. He was yelling so loudly at Hannah that it was almost like he was right there and screaming through a microphone. "Well, maybe that's because you disappeared off the face of the fucking earth, bitch!" Hannah winced slightly before feeling her mouth fall open in shock; he'd never, ever called her anything like that before. "I haven't seen you in **half a fucking decade**! You just disappeared – we didn't know what happened to you or where the fuck you were! All we knew was that you ditched town and there was no fucking way to find you! Jesus Hannah, why the fuck did you have to move to fucking _Minnesota_? Why the fuck couldn't you stay in Detroit, or at least Michigan!"

Personally, she was proud that they hadn't found her until now; considering what she was up against, five years had to be good. But he was beginning to press on her nerves with how he was acting – shouting at her like that, calling her a bitch, swearing like her. Even if she deserved it, which she probably did, why did he have to do this while she was at work? She knew the Mercer boys well enough that they knew where she was, and probably had somebody in town waiting for a call to go pick her up. Her deep, captivating, olive green eyes beginning to obtain that dangerous tint of fiery red that foreshadowed somebody getting hurt. The majority of her co-workers – all save Aaron – backed away a few feet while keeping within earshot, but she turned her back to them. Placing the receiver back against her ear, she hissed, "Watch your goddamn mouth, Jackie-boy! D'you realize who you're talking to, you little fairy? This is _Hannah_!" Although he couldn't see her, the girl jabbed herself in the chest with her thumb as she spoke her own name. "You've never called me a bitch before!"

"Well, I'm calling you one now, and you sure as hell know you deserve it," Jack snapped, anger coursing through his voice. Years of missing her, not seeing her, not knowing if she was in trouble, or on the street somewhere with only a blanket to shield her from winter's wrath. "You ran away, Hannah! You left us, and disappeared, and we didn't know if you were dead or alive! You deserve to be called a bitch!"

She countered quickly, jabbing her index finger forcefully on the desk before her, as if the person she was arguing with sat behind it. "You know I had a damn good reason to leave, Jackie," she growled in a low, threatening voice, "and I don't regret it one bit. Okay? Get that through your fucked up head."

"You watch who you're calling **fucked up**!" he shot back.

Hannah took a second to breathe. She closed her eyes, rubbing the heel of her free hand against them, before opening them to stare at the wall. "Okay, rock star, let's get passed the insults. I wanna know how you got my phone number, and don't even _attempt_ to say that Jeremiah had it. Listen, I covered my tracks, I changed my fucking last name, okay? I did so much shit you guys couldn't track me down until now." She ruffled her bangs with her unoccupied hand, and released a minute sigh. "So?"

The garage workers were beginning to get worried. If she had to do that, who in God's name was she running from?

She could almost feel Jack's slight smile and slighter head nod through the telephone. "Okay, Han, I'll tell you if you promise to **calm down**." Taking the short silence that followed as a sign to go on, he continued, "Sofi found it in your room."

"Sofi…?" she inquired, perplexed. After five seconds of deep thought, her eyes shot open in realization. "Fucking _La Vida Loca_? How the fuck did she get involved in this? More importantly, what's that bitch been doing, sneaking around my room?"

Jack couldn't fight the urge, as he let out a low chuckle. "Short temper, even shorter attention span," he mumbled, paying no mind to whether she heard that or not. Instead, he stated, more clearly, "Angel catches you talking shit about Sofi and he'll have your ass."

Before she could even begin to think of anything to say to that comment, the commented on male made an appearance. "You're damn right I will."

Hannah's bottom jaw ever so slightly, so that her lips were just barely ajar. Her empty hand discovered her forehead, and its fingers interlocked themselves with her bangs. She whirled around to lean her bottom on the desk, and faced her co-workers, though she could not see them; her eyes were gently shut. Not meant to be seen by those guys, she mouthed what appeared to be the words '_Oh my God…_'. In the back of her mind, she could hear the youngest two of the Mercer family yelling.

"You scared her off, Jarhead!" Jack accused his older brother angrily. He huffed, showing his displeasure, and muffled laughter was audible in the background.

She could almost see Angel's hands raise up to convince them of his innocence. "Man," he tried, "I didn't do nothing! So lay off, dick lips, it ain't like she hung up or anything!"

Hannah opened her eyes, and locked her gaze with the only respectable person in the garage, and her only friend. She carefully and slowly mouthed to him, '_Don't worry… don't do anything stupid_.' After retaining her silence, just for another moment, she flipped out again, pounding her fist on the desk once. "Shit, Jackie-O! You put this on fucking speakerphone? Fuck!" she hollered. Breathing slowly, she demanded to know, "Who else has been listening in?"

Then she heard an unmistakable voice that she hadn't heard in longer that she hadn't heard Jack's voice. "Me and Jerry," it announced in that gruff, oh-so-recognizable voice.

"Bobby?" she inquired exasperatedly.

* * *

That's as much as a cliffhanger as I could find from what I have, and I think it's at a descent part. I hope everybody decides to review this chapter, I love hearing from readers! And to those who reviewed last time: 

Iluvgarretthedlund: Thank you so much! And maybe this will answer some of your questions about Hannah… and I hope you liked this chapter too! (Oh, and as a side note, I love your stories!)

RecluseChIcK: Uh… I never really thought of the end of last chapter as a cliffhanger… but maybe I was! I guess so. Is this one more of a cliffhanger? Oh, I love this… how could I do this to you? Simple. Post. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will review again!

Too Lazy to Sign-In: Wonderfully written? Thank you _soooooo_ much! I adore you. And I try to make it so that there aren't any mistakes, glad to see it's paid off! And the stranger who helped Jack? In due time. I seriously have no idea when they're going to find out. Anyway, this might have answered some questions you have… but perhaps the next chapter will answer more! So, review, please?

Sweet A.K: Yeah, some mystery, but not a lot… perhaps? I don't know. More will come, though! Hehehehe… Thanks, and hope you review again!

Roxy: Yeah, I'm a fan of detail. I love it. Ever since my grade for teacher… though he once told me I had too much detail. And yay! I always love hearing that I've kept the characters in character. Sometimes they tend to stray. So, here's an update, though it doesn't really have all the brothers.

WishfulWriting: Oh, thanks! Gotta love the details, of course, and I hope you liked this chapter.

pwrhungryjr: Yeah, I couldn't stand keeping Jack dead, I don't have the heart to do it! I know how annoying Sofi can be, and I hope I lived up to it; I tried hard! And of course Angel is the only one who can stand her… he gets to have sex! And here is an update, so you going to gimme a review?

Mizz-Whizz49: Oh, of course, thank you for that wonderful comment! And great vocabulary comes from reading a lot, and having my friends… more book-obsessed than me! So here is an update, hope you review… by the way, I've read all your Four Brothers stories, and I love 'em.

tigerwhisper: Thanks to you as well. I love the beginning, though it's kinda bland… I just needed to intro the brothers and stuff, although Jerry isn't there. And.. yeah. Hope you liked this chapter as much as the last!

Caitlin: I like how I kept Jack alive too. And I really like the fact that you found this interesting! And I'm entertaining the thought that you'll like this chapter and that you'll update.


	3. Clash of Two Lives

Hi again!

I'm so sorry it took me so long to update! But I had this huge, gigantic History assignment on the election, which I ended up doing the weekend of my Karate Exam and didn't finish until 11:30 Sunday night. But I got the opportunity to finish it over the weekend, because on Friday the school was closed because the odors coming from the gym were too strong (they're laying down a new floor, which is taking _forever_; we haven't had a usable gym since like, October, and they've been shipping gym students up to the College), and then on Monday morning it was closed because of road conditions (opened in the afternoon though, but it was pointless), and then today (Tuesday) they closed it again "due to fumes associated with the gym floor". Oh, joy… Anyway! Here's chapter three! Doncha love me?

Chapter Three  
_Clash of Two Lives_

Her brain muttered the words _This isn't happening_ over and over, while another part of her chimed in _You always knew it would_. "The fuck are you do – wait… where in God's name are you guys – not are Jeremiah and Camille's, are you? Oh, shit… are Amelia and Daniela there?" Her voice was panicked now.

Jack's voice re-entered the conversation, and he reassuringly stated, "Nah, baby girl, we aren't at Jerry's house. You know damn well, with Bobby's mouth, that he wouldn't let him near the girls if we were calling you. Hannah, we're at Mom's." That last word stung in her ears for a moment, before she forcefully demanded to be informed as to where the woman was. "She ain't here right now. Look, girly, you need to come home, you got that? We need you to come home, we need to become a family again. Mom would love that; I know you'd do anything for her. And before you start bawling about how you won't do it –" he added, as she opened her mouth to tell him what he predicted "– we've all moved back – me, Angel, even Bobby – and we just really want you home. We really missed you, and I know you missed us, and we just want you back here; shit, _I_ want you back here."

She knew he meant every word of that. It was obvious simply from his voice, but he was still Bobby's pawn, a tool to persuade her to co-operate. However, before she could even respond to the youngest Mercer brother's pleas, the eldest brother lost it and began hollering. "Listen up, you little brat! You will listen to your brothers, and listen good: you're gonna come back like the good little Hannah you're not. You're quitting your job and permanently moving back here, and we'll get you a job."

"Look, I'm not going back, okay, and that's FINAL. I'm frickin' done with Detroit; I ain't never going back. _I actually have a life here_. I'm really sorry Jackie, and Jerry, but I have a job here, I have my own apartment… This is damn good for me, and I don't wanna mess this up by going back to live with y'all. You seriously can't expect me to just pack up and leave after I've been here for nearly half a decade!"

Without an inkling of regret in it, Jack's voice strengthened slightly as he stated, "You have to come back. You don't have a choice."

"What do you mean I –" she spat out, seconds before it clicked. Shit. With realization flooding her, she ran an empty hand through her bangs and scrunched up her eyes for a second. As she opened them, she focused them on the windows to the outside world, scanning the street, but she hardly had a view; it was obstructed by walls. "You sent somebody out here! Screw you all. You cannot make me go back!"

Reasonable Jeremiah, true to the adjective, notified her, "Yeah we can, babe. You know we can."

Glaring into space, she muttered moodily, "I hate you all. But… wait, you're all on the phone, so who did you send?" Aha! She had found a loophole. Perhaps they were just trying to trick her! Yeah, she was so much smarter than the Mercer boys.

"That's what you call the miracle of the cellular phone, Miss Simms," Bobby burst her bubble.

"Shit…" she muttered. "Shit! Who did you send?" She paused for a moment, trying to think of who the logical choice would be. "Please, _please_ say it's you Cracker Jack. It has to be you. Jackie baby, come on, please..."

She could feel the addressee's smile sadden as he replied, "It's not me, Hanny, I'm sorry. I would've messed something up, and Bobby didn't want me to go."

"Who is it then?" Hannah inquired. Surely… "Please say it isn't Bobby!"

His deep laugh permeated the phone line, and she felt herself let out a miniature sigh of relief. "Nah, hun, I'm staying right here in the warmth of our own home, preparing to beat the bloody shit out of you when you get back here."

She rolled her eyes for a second, and then she paused. Her olive orbs absently scanned over the other garage workers, resting longest on Craig, probably the toughest guy who worked there. She made her decision as to who her guess would be, and she was positive she was correct. "Damnit, you sent Angel, didn't you?" So correct that she didn't even need Jack's confirmation, although it came anyway. She released a groan before she began hissing at them. "You bloody idiots! Angel was the absolute _worst_ person you could have chosen! Even _Bobby_ would have been a better choice!"

Angel inquired, "Why? Wait… I don't wanna know."

Jeremiah spoke up then, advising her not to attempt escape and evasion. "You know we know where you live and where you work, and don't even think of running because you know –"

Hannah hung her head slightly, swaying it from side to side as she regretfully agreed, "Yeah, yeah, I know. He can run a hell of a lot faster than me." The Mercer male that had come to retrieve her casually concurred. "So, Angel is like, outside the garage or something, right?"

"Right on. Still got some wits, I see," the oldest said. "So like Jerry told you, ain't no point in running."

After inquiring to Bobby what the youngest black Mercer was driving, Jeremiah answered that it was his vehicle. "Ah, the Volvo, I presume?" inquired the female, and hearing the affirmative answer, grinned. "Oh, _she_ told me when you bought it, Mister Businessman," she answered his unasked question, chuckling.

The female's co-workers began getting a tad more worried. There was somebody here – just outside – to capture Hannah? Surely they must have been lying. They collectively advanced towards a window and peered outside. Sure enough, there was a Volvo outside, inside of which a black man was lying in the front seat, looking out the window and speaking into a cellular phone. Panic arose in Aaron, while anger reared its hideous head in the others. Chad swore, and aloud wondered what they could do to protect Hannah and rid the town of that strange man.

In response to this, Frankie picked up a wrench from a nearby toolbox. "How about we go and teach that guy a lesson?" he menacingly suggested. The rest of the workers never voice anything, but they clearly complied with his idea, for they each picked up a different object and dangerously strode towards the exit. This remained unknown to Hannah, however, as her back was still turned to them. Gang-style, they exited the garage.

Angel sat up as they did so, watching them curiously. Seeing that they were coming towards him, he got out of the vehicle, situating the phone atop the car. When they halted, Angel demanded, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Angel?" Jack inquired, flustered. "What's that all about? We're your family, man."

Hannah slowly whirled about on her heels, allowing her eyes to search every visible inch of the garage in one quick sweep, within seconds. Seeing the building was more or less vacant, she crept toward the window, until – a foot away from it still unable to see any human life – the cord stretched so far she couldn't move any further. "Jackie," she started slowly, "I don't think he's talking to us…"

Confused by this, Bobby shot back, demanding to know who his brother was talking to, but he couldn't even get the question from his mouth. He was interrupted by the sound of people yelling, and the second youngest Mercer brother cursing. Shortly after that, the noise that could only be people – and objects – hitting people resounded. After nearly a minute, the noise was eliminated, save for the hollering of Angel and Craig.

"Get – the fuck – away – from me," the former hissed, most likely through clenched teeth.

Craig's reply was no less vulgar, but much more passionate. "Fuck you! Get the hell out of town, you fucking sick-ass nigger!"

"The hell did you jus –" retorted the black male, but was cut off by a gunshot.

Hannah couldn't retain the frightened, startled scream that erupted from her mouth. Concerned, she dropped the receiver, bolting through the door to the calm winter day. She spotted her supervisor lying on his side on the snow-covered sidewalk, groans escaping him, while Frank had propped himself up against the front of the garage. He sported a busted lip and red marks that would surely turn into nasty bruises. Aaron, she noticed, was seated on the sidewalk, his hands over his head in pain. The other male, Jacob, was knocked out. Craig had a pistol aimed at a black male whom she could only assume was Angel. The Mercer was clutching the upper section of his right arm with the opposing hand; the hand of the injured arm pointed a similar firearm back in return.

Without looking over, the African-American acknowledged her arrival with an indifferent, "Hannah."

"Angel," she returned in much the same manner. "Get back to Detroit. Don't bother trying to convince me to go, because you know that I'm as stubborn as Bobby and I won't change my mind about moving back." Turning from him, she ran to where Aaron sat and squat down in front of him. "Damnit, are you alright? Aaron, you stupid prick, why'd you try and take him on…" She muttered this more to herself while she checked to see if his head was bleeding anywhere. He was her only friend in town, she had to make sure he wasn't injured. After he passed her inspection, she rose and situated herself between the two gun-wielding idiots, facing her co-worker. "What in God's name did you shoot him for, you twit!"

Craig, surprised that she rounded on _him_, snapped, "He had a freakin' gun, Simms, he was going to shoot somebody!"

"Nah," she brushed it off with a shake of her head, "nah, he wasn't. He'd never, ever shoot anybody unless they really deserved it!" She knew Angel, and even after the years they'd been separated, she knew that what she said was still true.

The garage employee pointed a threatening finger passed her. "That fucking sick-ass _nigger,_ he was going to capture you and bring you back to those other sick fucks, and then do God knows what to you, Hannah!"

Her head was nodding in understanding, her eyes were gone calm. She'd heard nothing after he'd uttered the word 'nigger' with immense hatred. "Oh," she said, softly at first, but slowly her voice rose, "oh, I see. _That's_ it. You… **asshole**! You shot him because he's black!" At his silence and his glare, she was certain she spoke the truth. "You bloody racist! Get in the garage." There was another pause, and – so quickly that it made him wince – she pointed to the entrance of the building. "Now."

After glaring at her once again, he whirled around on his heels – removing his finger from the trigger – and walked towards the entrance. Once he was there, he faced her once again. "We ain't gonna let some mother-fucking NIGGER –" he greatly stressed the word "– take you away, Simms!"

Angel began to move towards him, hissing, "I'll fucking teach him."

However, as he passed her, Hannah grabbed him forcefully by the shoulder, warning, "Angel…" When he attempted to protest, she said, more demandingly, "Angel." He huffed. "You'll do nothing, you hear me? Nothing." As he did not reply, she allowed a moment to breathe before she slapped him.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, reacting by backhanding her. "Don't you start, girl, don't even. You – are coming – home!" Of course, her defiance rose up, and from the direction it had turned to when he contacted it, her face returned to look at him. Her eyes bore into his and a frown set on her lips, while she crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the cold nipping at them.

It was Frank who attempted to protect her now. He rose and approached the completely opposite pair, absently wiping a hand across his bleeding lip as he did so. "Nah she ain't," he spoke up. "I don't care who the _fuck_ you are, man, you are not taking this girl anywhere that she doesn't want to go. Especially with the likes of you and those other assholes she was talking to!" He attempted to strike fear in the man with an intimidating glower (or, what he thought was intimidating, at least), unaware of the fact that such a gesture could never intimidate a Mercer.

Putting the weapon's safety on and placing it in the top of his slightly baggy jeans, he gave the other man a hard look. "And why not?" he queried fiercely.

The Caucasian male, now standing alongside Hannah, worked his hand around his co-worker's waist, resting it comfortably on her hip… a little too low. "Because…" the beginning was slow, but came to normal speed quickly, "because I love her." He pulled her closer to him, gently yet possessively.

The female's hands became tight and deadly in a matter of seconds, and her eyes whirled dangerously. Sending him a discrete glare that had a hint of confusion, she hissed through clenched teeth, so quietly Angel could not have heard her, "What the hell are you doing, Frankie?"

Frank turned his head to look down at her – being several inches taller than the woman of a 5'6½" build – and whispered in her ear, "Just go with it…"

As the male's proclamation of love was voiced, there was an uproar from the Mercers listening via cell phone. The first one heard was Jeremiah's confused question, "What the hell is goin' on!"

Jack was next, and almost excited, yet serious. "Hanny's got a boyfriend!"

Bobby's was louder, and infinitely fiercer, than either of his brothers' shouts. "Who the fuck said that about Han?" he demanded to know. "Did he touch her! **KISS** her! Fuck him up, Angel! Beat his ass!"

Seizing the opportunity, while Hannah was still quite baffled by his actions and that Angel man was to stunned by what was happening to do anything, Frank lightly grasped the girl's chin in his free hand. He reached down and covered her lips with his, making it seem passionate and deep to the observers. The remainder of the garage's employees were amazed by this daring display, and were gawking. "THE FUCK! YOU FUCKING DICK! GET OFF'A MY SISTER, MAN!" Angel flipped, and was about to go and pound the shit out of that punk, but the female was too quick.

She pushed him away arduously, while her previously confused eyes once again became tinted with that fiery red. "The hell was that?" she angrily demanded. Not giving him the opportunity to respond, she punched him where a bruise was surely already forming on his face. He stumbled back, but she neglected to care. "Don't EVER kiss me, Frank!"

The addressed worker backed away from the two Mercers, a hand to his cheek, his eyes widely watching Hannah. "I was trying to save you from those perverted scumbags, girl? What's your deal?"

Angel, still irritated over the kiss that guy had planted on his sister, shouted, "Perverted scumbags?" He rounded on the girl. "What the fuck did you tell these jerk-offs about us?"

"Nothing, Angel!" she gasped out, holding her hands up to emphasize her innocence. "I've never even mentioned y'all to any of them! So don't go blaming me for shit!" She whirled around, away from the black man, on her heels, to face her kisser. "Frankie, what in God's name are you going on about? I've never said anything about Angel, Jerry, Cracker Jack, or Bobby to you. Not in all the years I've worked here! Where do you get off calling them those things?" He began to stutter out a defense, but she interrupted him two words in. "There you go, boy, you weren't using that damn brain of yours!" She dismissed him when she heard a small grunt from Angel, and shook her head at his actions. "Damn, Craig actually hit you?

Angel let out a small chuckle. "Of course he did," answered the male. "Baby girl, you know as well as I do that at the distance me and that asshole were at, it's nearly impossible to miss if you don't try."

She laughed at that, smiling a beautiful smile rarely seen on her. "I know, I know, but Craig's got a horrible shot… let me see that wound," she instructed. He obeyed, uncovering the fresh but hardly, if at all, bleeding wound. Another giggle escaped her. "Jeez, it barely grazed you, Angie… quit bitching about it. Suck it up, boy! I'm sure Cracker Jack could give you some tips on that." With that last comment, she winked and then let out a small chuckle.

He pouted cutely, as a child would, and whined, "You mean you're not gonna get all big-sistery on me, even though I was just shot?"

"Oh! Well, now that you point that out, I might as well!" she said sarcastically, hopping to his side and pretending to fawn over his wound. Momentarily, she poked at it, and noticed him glaring playfully at her from the corner of his eyes. She grinned broadly at him, kissed it, and then enveloped him in a gigantic embrace, her arms reached up and her hands barely interlocking behind his neck. He brought his strong arms around her in a loving bear hug, raising her could inches from the ground so they were almost eye level. After a couple seconds, she glanced up and become aware of the lack of hair. "You shaved it?" questioned the female.

The colored man nodded, offering her a smile to show off his pearly whites. "It's been shaved for years, girl. That's what you get for not being around for all them years and shit. So, you're going to come home, then, Hanny?"

That question snapped her back to the situation at hand. She hadn't been able to help giving her brother a hug, despite the circumstances, but now that she had returned to reality… "Yeah right, Angel. Like hell I'm going back there. Unless you give me a damn good reason, like – God forbid – Mom's in the hospital dying of something, or Jackie's in some extremely fucked up shit that even you and Bobby can't get him out of." Hannah knew she would go home because of something like that, but the thought never crossed her mind that something like that would have happened. Besides, if her mother was in the hospital, she would have called her about it – she wouldn't leave her daughter in the dark about something like that.

Angel let loose a brief sigh, definitely not what she'd been expecting. When he didn't immediately shrug off the idea, the female knew something was up. On the outside, she remained unfazed, but on the inside there was a flurry of activity, wondering what was going on. "Well, it's like this," he began, "Cracker Jack got shot almost two months ago, back in the very beginning of December, and he almost died." He really didn't want to continue, and end up telling her about their mother, but fortunately – for the moment – she didn't want to here anything beyond that. Not that she knew there was anything beyond that, because she spoke up milliseconds after he said 'died'.

"Stop," she commanded gently, closing her eyes and holding an open hand up as she turned her face from him. "Who the fuck shot him? Wait… I don't wanna know, plus you guys probably took care of the bastard already. But we both know that y'all ain't gonna give up, ain't that right?" She turned back towards him and looked up at him as she spoke those last words. Seeing his nod and hearing his affirmative answer, she sighed. "_Fine_!" she growled at him. "I'll come back for a week, just a week, for a vacation. You can stay at my apartment until we leave." Hannah walked over to her boss and kneeled down in front of him. "Chad, I'm taking the rest of the day off, and I'll be in until Wednesday, but after that I'm taking a week off, okay? And you know you can afford to give me some time off, I haven't taken any since June two and a half years ago." She turned her heel as she rose and then was reminded of something by an almost silent murmur in the distance. "_Oh, shit_!" she breathed, and before Angel had a chance to argue that fact that she'd be coming back for good, she was bolting towards the garage entrance. Gracefully, she snatched the receiver up off the cement floor. "Shit, I'm sorry man!" she spoke.

Angel realized what she was going on about and grabbed his cell off the Volvo before following her. Pressing it to his ear as he strolled, he informed the curious Mercers, "Bobby, I never beat the shit out of the fucker, Hannah did by her damn self. Seems he wasn't her boy. And I would not want to be any of these fools in the morning. But shit, she said she'll come home." Immediately, Jeremiah let out a whoop of success, only to be cut short. "Don't be celebrating just yet, she said she'd only come for a week-long vacation. I'll convince her tonight though." It was then that she apologized into the phone, just as Angel entered the building.

"Hannabear," pleaded Jack, using an old petname for her, from their childhood, "come home, please. You don't know what it's like, living with Bobby, Angel, and La Vida Loca – I found some fucking lingerie in my room yesterday! Do you know how damn disgusting that is, when you know who wore it? I need somebody sane, come on…"

"Jackabear," she countered in a whinier voice, "_no_." She hopped up on the desk, facing back towards the entrance of her workplace, to see he co-workers following Angel in and shooting him nasty looks. For the most part, at least; Aaron didn't know how to feel about this character – sure, he really didn't like him, but he seemed to have a history with Hannah – so he wouldn't judge him yet. "I told Angel I'll come for a week, and I'd say that's pretty damn good considering how y'all sprung this on me. And you all pulled the Mom card. You could've done, better in my opinion, but I'll leave it at that."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Hope even more that you'll review, because you know I love it! To my chapter two reviewers: 

Too Lazy to Sign-In: Well, it was super long and I really wanted to update, that's why I split it up… And thanks you for loving it! I do too! And I'll get to those questions in later chapters. Review this chapter, would you? Love hearing from you!

RecluseChIck: I know it's different, that's why I love it. And thank you! Please review again…

EyesPaintedBlack: You having a heart attack wouldn't weigh on my conscious, don't worry. Kidding! But I updated, you gotta love me!

pwrhungryjr: Bwahahahaha… here's that update! And I might get to those issues… someday… if Hannah ever gets back to Detroit…

stacia: It's awesome? Wows! Thanks! Hopefully this chapter is awesome too, and you'll review it!

Walter!: You revieeeeeeeeeeeewed, thanks:::::::huggles: Hopefully you'll love this chapter too, and I know you'll review, 'cause if you don't right away I'll bug you until you do! Bwahahahahaha…… 3

Mizz-Whizz49: This was as soon as I could, so here you go! Wish I could update as often as you… eh heh. Was this chapter great too?


	4. Persuasion

I'm baaaaaaack!

Sorry I've been gone such a long time. I guess I just lost the spark for this story. But I am back in action. I got a review today (from music nimf, bless her) that just spurred me back into the story. I know this Chapter isn't very exciting, but it's still in the beginning stages of the story. I plan to keep working on this, so hopefully you will see more chapters soon as well.

Wow… it's been almost an entire year since I updated this. Three days less than an entire year, actually. Damn. Well, here you are:

Chapter Four  
_Persuasion_

Angel sighed. Well, at least he'd made a little progress, at least she'd agreed to come home. Perhaps they should have sent Jack, though… he would have had the advantage with her. Jack was the youngest, Jack had been shot… and Jack really didn't pose as much of a threat as the rest of the Mercer brothers. However, if they _had_ chosen Jack, there was the fact that he would have been ganged up on, and the outcome may not have been the same. Bobby would have probably been the best choice. He was much more forceful, and could easily overpower the girl. Well, nothing could be done about that now. He'd just have to try and convince her to do what they all wanted her to do.

"Hannah," Aaron said as he stepped forward, ignoring the glare from the African-American man, "you gonna tell us what's going on?"

The Mercer male stepped forward, prepared to disable the guy quickly when he placed an arm around Hannah's shoulders, but the female halted him. She shot him a glower that would match and put up a good fight against Bobby's, while swinging an arm of her own around the guy's waist. "Yeah. You see, when I was younger I used to live in Detroit, and I lived with my mother and my brothers. I never had a father; never was any reason for one, there were enough boys there as it was. And, Angel, he's one of my four brothers. Bobby, Jeremiah, and Jackabear, they're my other brothers and I couldn't ask for anything else. A wonderful mother, four amazing brothers who would probably kill for me… I got it all." She smiled over at Angel as her co-workers took in this info.

Craig was the first to respond. "That dude, right there, that nigger, he's your brother?" He needed no confirmation, he knew Hannah wasn't lying, but he just needed to say that. With a sick cackle, he spat, "Your mother must have been some whore, if that's your brother."

The only reason Hannah neglected to beat the shit out of him was because of Aaron's arms holding her back, but that said nothing for Angel. "Shut you mother-fucking mouth, damn white trash!" he growled. He whipped out the pistol from before and aimed it as though he'd been doing this his entire life; when he fired, the bullet ended up in Craig's foot. "Don't ever talk about my mother like that!"

"Angel," Hannah cried out, surprised at her sibling's actions, "what are you doing? You can't just go around shooting people!" When he countered that only minutes before, _that bastard_ had shot him in the arm, she just cursed. "You're could get in serious shit now, you're older… but good shot. Always love to see you succeed at _something_."

Aaron loosened his grip on the girl, but she didn't move away from him. In fact, when he sat up on the desk next to her, she hoisted herself into his lap, with muttered thanks. He interlocked his fingers and laid them on her stomach, ignoring the murderous glint in the black man's eyes. "So, Han, what's the deal?" questioned he, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Simple. My mother, she adopted me and my brothers, and tried to make half-decent people out of us. And believe me, we were the worst bunch of children you would ever meet – Mum was on a first-name basis with almost every cop in Detroit. Go figure the only one of us who turned out all right was Jerry, he always was the most sensible one." She smiled at the thought of her mother, and of the second-oldest Mercer brother.

The present Mercer brother stuffed his firearm in the back of his loose jeans and frowned at his 'sister'. "Girl, Jerry ain't the only decent one of us. I turned out all right… I'm in the Marines, I'm a soldier… ya should be proud of me."

"Yeah, playboy," she laughed, nodding, "I'm real proud of you. Whatever you want to think." Hannah smiled at her brother – despite the situation, they were brother and sister, and that sibling affection conquered any other feelings she had towards him at the moment. "Let's go back to my apartment, Angie, so I can beat the crap out of you for ruining my life, 'kay?" she inquired with a calm, almost bored voice, and a grin on her face.

A laugh started up, originating from none other than Frankie. "God, Simms, how can you think you could stand a chance against him? He's huge compared to you, and he beat up all of us single-handedly – if you take him on you'll be defeated within seconds!"

She glared over at him. Growling, she informed him, "I could beat your ass any time, any place, Franklin, so don't even talk about me like that, okay? You don't know shit about my strength – or Angel's for that matter, because he was just going easy on you – although I'd give you a demonstration if you insisted." Hannah patted the hands on her stomach twice (a habit she'd had when she was younger and thought she had forgotten), signaling her with to be released, and her friend obliged. "Come on, brother, let's go," she commanded none too gently, giving him a light push towards the doorway. However, as her name was voiced, she turned around to face the speaker.

"Are we still going out tonight?" queried Aaron.

Hannah hesitated, looking from her brother to her only friend in Minnesota. "Yeah, yeah, you can still come and pick me up at seven, and I guess my idiot brother is coming. Jeez, his girlfriend is the devil herself, he needs a break and to relax," she replied as she patted Angel's arm. "Unless, of course, my idiot brother wants to stay at my crappy apartment for eight hours by himself while his sister is out clubbing." A bright smile met her lips; she knew Bobby would kill Angel if that were to happen and Bobby were to find out.

"Oh, shit if you're clubbing 'til three in the morning with some punk I don't even know," he snapped, glaring at the stranger who was way too comfortable around his sister. Pointing a threatening finger, he snarled, "I'll deal with you later, punk."

The female slapped his finger down playfully. "Nope, you won't, because you're a good little Angel who wouldn't hurt somebody unless they deserved it, and Aaron doesn't deserve it. So, I'll see all you guys tomorrow at work, and Aaron, _sweetie_, –" just to aggravate her brother, she added the 'sweetie', "– I'll see you later on tonight. Okay? Okay!"

* * *

Angel sat uncomfortably on the sable couch (which was practically new, from the state of it) in the apartment belonging to his sister, but acting as though he was in the home of a complete stranger. In a way, he was – Hannah was certainly _very_ different then he remembered; she even looked somewhat different. He chewed on the inside of his cheek – a habit if his childhood – as he waited for his sibling to come out of her bedroom. Looking around the small apartment, he was surprised to see how clean the place was – very unlike the Hannah he used to know. There was little clothing strewn across the floor, no food left on the coffee table, and from what he could see of the small kitchen/dining area, all her dishes were cleaned and put away. He was beginning to wonder if they really should be trying to take her away from this life – she had a good job, a decent car, her own apartment, and, most of all, she seemed **happy**. However, there was something deep in her eyes when she looked at him, buried deep in her voice when she teased him about the bullet graze, that told him she missed the family and wanted them in her life once again. 

"You alright Angie?" the female inquired upon exiting the bedroom adjacent to the living room and walking towards him. She was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a tight-fitting burgundy tank top, and her hair was left down so it just touched her shoulders. She watched him for a moment, as he didn't seem to have heard her question, and looked in the direction that he was staring – probably at her 'happy happy white cloud'. There was an amusing story behind that, which dated back to three years previous, but she felt no reason to bring it up. Smiling somewhat shyly, she seated herself beside him, startling him. "You zoned out."

He scoffed at her. "Nah, I didn't. You're imagining things, Hanny," he informed her, tearing his eyes away from the white splotch in the middle of the sky blue wall and turning them on her, only to have them widen in shock. "What the hell are you wearing?"

She looked over herself and shrugged. "Clothes," she answered. Noting his widened eyes, she added, "What, would you rather I go naked?"

Angel muttered, "I'm sure _Aaron_ would like that." His tone was not teasing or playful, but filled with anger. Mercer rage. There was also the Mercer Brother Protection Factor in there, although Angel knew she was a grown woman and didn't need to be protected. Hell, even when she was younger she didn't need to be protected. He couldn't help wanting to, though.

"Me and him aren't like that, Angie. We're just friends, nothing to worry about," she assured him. Damn Aaron for mentioning their night out in front of Angel! Sure, he didn't know any better and it was just that he needed to know if things were going ahead as planned, but still. "Just leave this alone, okay? For now at least. Besides, I have to give you a good telling-off so I can get that off my chest and enjoy my night out!" She rose and approached the punching bag which stood about five feet away from the couch, and heard her brother mutter something about how she was probably planning on getting something else off her chest tonight. "Angel! Shut up! It's me who should be telling you off, not the other way around!" Her fist forcefully contacted the material of the bag, causing it to sway. "Argh… Angel, why, now, of all times, did you have to come? Jesus fuckin' Christ…" She muttered the last bit before whirling around and planting a kick on her inanimate opponent.

"There are… circumstances, girl, but Bobby wants to tell you himself. He wants to be there in front of you, in the house we grew up in, and tell you," replied the male. "This is really important shit, and you have to know. He just needs to tell you in his own way. You know what Bobby's like – he's hardly changed since he was a teenager. Still doing stupid things, being irrational, but he needs his specifics. And he needs his little sister back again. Jackie just ain't girly enough."

Hannah sighed, shaking her head out of disappointment. She gracefully fell onto the couch at the opposite end of Angel, sighing. Crossing her arms absently, she stated, "I'm not going back, Jarhead. You can't make me. I'm you're sister, I can still beat you in a fight. And you might not be able to have kids afterwards."

A quiet whimper escaped Angel, which his sibling had to laugh at. "Shut up, girl," he snapped, his unpleasant mood returning to him. "You need to come back home… Jerry's kids need to know that they have an actual aunt, and I know how much you love kids. You always did. I remember, when you found out the Thanksgiving before you left that Camille was pregnant and you were going to be an aunt… you were overjoyed! And you passed all that up when you up and left. Mom went through the roof with worry the next morning when she realized you were gone… Bobby went through the roof 'cause he was pissed 'cause you stole his car."

Sure, she was guilty of leaving without a word to anybody, but on Angel's last statement she had to defend herself. "That was _not_ Bobby's car, no way. He gave up the rights to it when he became a pro hockey player and bought his own car. And since nobody else lived there permanently, and Jackie didn't have his license, and Mum had her own decent car, it was officially **mine**. Besides, it was a beat up piece of crap anyway, why did he give a shit about it?"

"Because that was his first car, girl," he answered knowingly. "And I know what you're going to say, it was a piece of shit that he scammed from the junkyard, but he built her up from scratch. She's like his own foster kid… suits him well, too. Both of them can't drive for shit and both of them keep getting shot at. But baby girl, we've got more important and urgent issues to discuss." Hannah raised a curious eyebrow. "That kid had his hands all over you."

She shook her head, a slight grin gracing her face. "Where do you get off calling him kid? He's older than you, you know… Actually, now that I think about it, he's a little older than Bobby…" She stopped herself then, laughing, while Angel went on a tirade about this newfound fact, going on about how that '_dude's a dirty old perverted lecher, taking advantage of innocent young girls_.' After going full-tilt for two entire minutes without pausing to take a breath, the female grasped her brother's face and shut him up with a sharp tap on the cheek. "Calm… the fuck… down… _brother_," she ordered. "Aaron's a sweetheart, he's nothing like you, don't worry. We're friends, nothing more."

Angel stared at her uncertainly. "Why are you all dressed up like… that… if you guys are only friends?" he asked, frowning. When she replied that they were going to a club and she should dress fittingly, he growled. It sounded as though clubbing was a regular occurrence for his sister and that dirty old dude, and he definitely did not approve. Bobby wouldn't approve in a million years… Jerry probably wouldn't even approve of it. Clearly she thought little of their feelings, though. "Does this Aaron fella have a wife?" Hannah shook her head. Negative. "Girlfriend?" Another negative. Angel paused, and then his face turned slightly hopeful. "Boyfriend?"

"No!" she exclaimed, laughing. "He's straight, Angie, very straight. Trust me. I can tell."

A glare burst onto the African-American's face. "I don't trust him. He's a single straight man who goes out clubbing with an attractive younger girl, and they're 'just friends'? Impossible, trust me. It can't be done. He's got a hidden agenda you don't know about; trust me."

She growled at him. "Just lay off him, okay? God… why can't you just trust me about him and enjoy yourself tonight?"

"Why can't you just trust me about what you need to do and move back home?" he spat in response.

Hannah glared, replying, "Okay, you're gonna play like that? I already agreed to come home for a week, playboy, don't push your goddamn luck."

The male groaned when he realized she'd lost none of her stubbornness over the years. Just like Bobby… but he knew they both had their breaking points. He just hoped he wouldn't have to use Hannah's on her. "Not just a little bit? Come on, baby girl, drive back tonight and I'll stop bugging you about moving back. I promise."

Her eyes widened. It was a decent deal, but – "That would mean I'd have to break the night out with Aaron, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah. But I'm sure he'll understand if you tell him the circumstances," answered Angel. After she inquired what those conditions were, he explained, "Family emergency. Your brother was shot a little while ago and nearly died, and… well, you don't need to get into specifics. If he's really your friend like you say he is, then he'll understand."

Ah, words of wisdom from Angel Mercer. She sighed, and he automatically knew she'd caved. "Fine," she told him, "we'll leave tonight. We'll leave at… seven thirty. If I remember correctly, we should be able to get there in time for breakfast… Mum'll probably make those awesome chocolate chip pancakes if she knows I'm coming home!"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment so he wouldn't tell her their mother's… _condition_. After a moment of silence, he glanced down at his watch. "You can get everything ready in an hour?" he questioned.

"Hell, I could get everything ready in ten minutes, but I don't want to," she replied. "Now, call Bobby on your cell and tell him you broke me and I'm coming home tonight, okay? I've got a couple calls to make, and stuff to pack…"

Angel nodded as he steeped into the kitchen area, still surprised that it was as clean as it was. He heard his sister moving around in the other room, and suddenly yelled out, "Make sure you change out of them smutty clothes before we leave!" He was responded to with a laugh and an agreement from his sister. A smirk introduced itself to his face as he reached into his pants pocket and brought up his brothers' number. Pressing the button to dial, he held it to his ear while approaching the refrigerator. As he heard the familiar ringing against his ear, he wrenched open the fridge and chuckled as he discovers most of the contents were alcoholic. Still a Mercer…

"Hullo?" a voice muttered in his ear, deep and rough.

Angel reached in and grabbed a beer, twisting the top off as he ordered, "Jack, put Bobby on."

There were muffled voiced as Jack obeyed and called for their eldest brother. A couple seconds of silence passed before Bobby's muffled voice was heard in conjunction with his laughter, followed by what was obviously an upset comment from Jack. "What's happening, little brother?"

The African-American man took a swig of the bottled beverage and swallowed it prior to answering. "I persuaded her to drive back tonight; we should be there sometime tomorrow morning, if it goes well. And… tell Jackie she wants some of Mom's chocolate chip pancakes. Bobby, I'm sorry man, but I can't think of any way to get her to move back permanently without telling her about Mom… I tried everything I could think of. She won't budge." He took another, rather large gulp as his brother assured him that at least she was coming back as soon as possible. "Yeah, but all her shit's here, and her car. What are we going to do about that?"

Following a sigh, Bobby responded, "We'll send somebody down to get it. Jack _was_ whining about how he can't live with us and keep his sanity… He knows he can bring his boyfriends back here, but for some reason he won't."

Angel scoffed. "I wonder why that is, hothead. You remember when Hannah brought her first boyfriend back? You almost made the fucker shit himself, he was so damn terrified of you," he reminded him, only to hear laughing on the other end. After some idle chitchat, the call was ended and Angel went into the living room to sit on that practically mint-condition couch. It amazed him still how clean the place was, how neat, how orderly. Propping his feet on the coffee table, he was halfway through bringing the beverage bottle to his lips when he noticed something on the floor.

Hannah spent the next ten minutes in her bedroom, packing clothing into her dufflebag. Enough to get by, but have a fair amount choice. She liked choice, even if it was just for the sake of choice. The clothing in the dresser by the closet contained clothing she'd bought since she'd come out here, clothing that had become her regular outfits. She highly doubted if she would wear any of it back home, but brought some (not much) of it, just in case. Most of the dufflebag's space – about two-thirds – was occupied by the clothing in the dresser in the back of the bedroom, containing clothes from home. Clothes she never wore anymore. Half of which didn't even belong to her to begin with. A few things belonged to Evelyn, and then a fair amount belonged to various brothers. She also packed a few hoodies, jerseys, and jackets, the majority of which belonged to the brothers, as well as some other, both personal and needed, items.

Whipping out her cell phone, she dialed one of the three numbers she knew off by heart, flopping childishly onto the bed when she heard it begin to ring. One, two, three rings echoed in her head before she heard the oh-so-familiar, somewhat soft voice greet her. "Hey there, Aaron, it's meeeeee. Listen, I've got something very important to tell you, regarding tonight. That date's off, sweetheart, I'm leaving tonight."

"Damn, I was hoping to get cheap drinks tonight. Oh well, maybe I'll just go and take Frankie," he joked. "Don't worry Hannah, it'll be okay. So, why the reason for a change of heart?"

Hannah picked up the novel on her bedside table, grinning slightly to herself; twenty-seven years old, and she was reading the Harry Potter series. She was almost finished reading the fourth book, and was quite captivated. Laying the book in her lap with the intent of placing it in her dufflebag after the phone call, she replied, "Family emergency, really important. My baby brother got into some trouble."

He asked no more questions, not sure he really wanted to know after hearing the conversation she was having with her supposed brothers at the garage earlier. Aaron simply told her that he understood, and that he would see her at work whenever it was that she got back. She was thankful for that, not that she'd expected much else – over the course of their friendship, she'd come to know him as a very sympathetic and empathic person, and one who would not force you to talk about anything.

After getting off the phone with Aaron, she called her supervisor and relayed the same basic message to him, including the fact that she was honestly not sure when she would be coming back. With a sigh he told her that it was fine, and that he was sorry for whatever it was that was happening to her family. He also informed her that Craig was going to be fired for having a deadly weapon at work.

Hannah placed the phone in her bag before rooting through her remaining clothing to find something different to wear. Because otherwise Angel was going to be bitching and complaining the entire ride home. She slipped into a pair of Homer Simpson pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt that had once belonged to Jeremiah, covered with one of her Jean jackets. It was going to be a long ride home – she figured she might as well be comfortable, and this would likely meet her brother's approval. She hopped out into the living room, startling Angel, who had appeared to be zoned out. "Whatcha looking at?" she questioned.

He looked up at her, then pointed towards the floor, where a stack of books lay. Most of them were fantasy or others of the sort, any mostly teenagerish novels. "Since when do you read? You've never read."

"Oh, I read, you just never knew it," she informed him, throwing the bag onto the floor. "Come on then, you big meanie, let's get moving. I really miss Mom's pancakes, they were the best!" She shoved the books Angel had been observing into her dufflebag, and then they left for Jeremiah's Volvo.

* * *

_There you are! Not my best, I know, but most of this was rushed. Tell me what you think, please, and I'll be mighty grateful._

_To my reviewers:_

Walter: I know you love her, you love all my OCs. But it's always great to hear! And thanks for loving my story – I do too. Hope this chapter was good! And I _really_ hope you review!

Lovebuggy: It will be interesting! Very interesting! But, sadly, it was not in this chapter. Nor, I think, will it be in the next chapter, but I'm not entirely positive. Thank you for the review, and I hope I won't keep you waiting much longer!

Kierce: Why thank you. I always try to make interesting stories – great to hear that some people find it interesting. Hope this chapter was as well, though I think it was mainly Hannah and Angel bitching at each other…

Bigamericanflirt: Well here's the next chapter! May you love it as much as you did the first three!

tigerwhisper: Sorry to keep you waiting so long! Thanks for loving it!

Embry: Yaaaay! I love reviews like this! Thanks for finding it so awesome!

bree3354: Something going on between Bobby and Hannah? That would be… interesting. Strange, but interesting. Just wait to find out. And review, if you want.

x-Whizzified-Magic-x: Not as much action in this chapter, though, sadly. Here's an update, though!

Duchess4ever: Yeah, and to have four older brothers that would probably beat a guy to near death for even looking at her? It must have been very hard for her to get a date. Don't worry, you'll get the whole story on Hannah… eventually. Well, some things may remain a mystery, but whatever. Review again?

RecluseChIcK: oh, yay! I love hearing that it's well-written, and original as well! I'd hoped it was, and you confirmed it! Thank you!

music nimf: And to the reviewer that inspired The Missing Links comeback! Thank you! I haven't disappeared, I just haven't been writing this fic… lack of inspiration, maybe? Who knows. Thanks a million for the review and the compliments! Bye!

_I'll update soon, I promise, my lovelies! You will be able to read more of Hannah soon enough!_


	5. Coming Home

Huzzah! I wrote another chapter! You must all love me!

Just so you all know, I have this tendency to work on about twenty different stories at a time, which is why I don't update much. And when I get things in my head, they just _beg_ to be written down. As it is, there's like counts six different FB stories, five _Fast and the Furious_, two _King Arthur_, four of _The Covenant_, and countless others of random movies, not to mention the original novels I'm attempting to write (three so far). Not that I'm making excuses, of course. But ANYWAY, here's an update for anybody who reads this. I love you ALL! When I rule the world none of you shall die. I promise.

I do not, sadly, own any of the Mercer brothers cries, nor anything from the movie _Four Brothers_, nor do I own the Temptations or anything else I have mentioned in this story besides my own characters.

Chapter Five  
_Coming Home  
_

This must have been the best car ride of her life; for now, at least. Damn she was comfortable. She had the backseat all to herself; Angel, of course, was driving. Using her dufflebag as a pillow, she was curled up lengthways across the seat with a blanket pulled over her. It was dark out already, but luckily clear – otherwise Angel would have somehow managed to have crash the car already. They'd been driving for just over an hour, which meant an hour closer to home – and to Evelyn's chocolate chip pancakes.

"So, how serious are you with La Vida Loca?" she questioned casually, gazing out the back window into the cloudless night sky, and the full moon. Her hands were clenched around the beaten up, worn blanket that she'd had since her adoption, and was normally kept on her bed.

Angel held back the chuckle he would have released, remembering how he'd asked his girlfriend that exact same question as they'd fled from her boyfriend of two years, if she hadn't called her that. Rather, a frown overtook his face. "Hannah, do you have to call her that? She's got a name, and it's Sofi. You're just like Bobby." He shot her a displeased expression by way of the rearview mirror, and sighed at her childish antics when she stuck her tongue out at him in response. "Fine, be like Bobby. And I don't know. We've been going together steady now for almost two months. Guess it's kind of serious."

"Well, we're going to have to have a talk about that, Angie," she told him in the same manner he had when the topic of Aaron had come up. "Trust me, no woman dates a half-decent-lookin' younger man without a hidden agenda. Can't be done, man. Sorry to burst your bubble. I'm just trying to protect you, brother dearest." She smirked. "I don't want you seeing her anymore, Angie. She's been a bad influence on you."

He sped up to pass an obviously just-bought pick-up truck, the first vehicle he'd seen in a half-hour. Steadying the wheel with one hand, he rooted through Jeremiah's CDs, only stopping when he found a Temptations disc and popped it into the player. Soon enough, the sounds of 'Papa was a Rolling Stone' filled the Volvo. Ironic, that song was, considering none of the Mercer children had a father. Not a real father, at least. Biological fathers, yes – not that Jeremiah, Jack, or Hannah had any knowledge of who their fathers were. Angel vaguely remembered his; a blurred face, a tall, overweight shadow, a whisper of a voice, that's all he could remember of the man. Bobby remembered his father better, but still not much. "Hannah, baby girl… shut up."

She snorted. "Real mature, there, Mister Aaron's-a-lecherous-old-bastard-preying-on-young-girls," she jested. With a sudden fit of energy, she rapidly sat up in the seat, the blanket still wrapped around her, though keeping her arms outside. Her feet were tucked under her legs, in an attempt to keep them warm. "Okay," she announced, "I'm bored! Okay, so we're going to switch over halfway there or something, right? I'll keep you up and alert during your shift, you do the same for me. We're definitely going to need some caffeine in a couple of hours, though – load up on chocolate and Pepsi or something."

Angel shook his head, answering, "You never did grow up, did you?" She agreed whole-heartedly. "So I take it you still don't like coffee?" In the backseat, she pretended to gag, a clear-cut answer. "Fuckin' children. Jack's a whiny little brat, Bobby's immature about everything, and now I have to live with _you_ too. I'm going to die in my own house." Hannah laughed, informing him that she'd admit to aiding in his death (if that ever happened) without hesitating. He grinned, adding, "Glad to know my sister loves me."

"Of course I love you, Angie," she gushed over him, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

They jibed back and forth for several hours before stopping at gas station to fill the Volvo, and fill up on stuff to keep them awake until they reached Detroit. Angel had to laugh when he saw the Hannah's face as they entered the small store. It was like a child on Christmas – or, more appropriately, a kid in a candy store. It was almost like she had reverted back to the days when she would pester Bobby or Jeremiah for hours just so she could buy something at the store. She tugged on the sleeve of his jacket, a look in her eyes that stated firmly that if she could not buy something, she would be whining for the remainder of the ride.

"Here," he handed her several bills, "go nuts."

Hannah launched herself at him, hugging him as though he had just permitted a child to explore Santa's workshop. "I love you so much Angel, you would not _believe_!" she told him, kissing him lightly on the cheek before running up and down the minimal number of aisles. Chips? Sure! What kind? Kind, that was singular, there would be no 'kind'; there would be 'kinds'! All-dressed, barbecue, salt and vinegar, Doritos, and some pretzels for good measure. On to another aisle! By the end of her venturing, she'd collected two bags of chocolate chip cookies, several chocolate bars, two two-liter bottles of Pepsi, and a six-pack of… milkshakes. It was a wonder she could carry all that. Nonetheless, Hannah, grinning, placed it onto the counter, quite amused by the clerk's expression.

Angel gave her an exasperated look. Baffled, he queried, "You're going to eat _all_ that?"

A hand shot to her mouth. She'd completely forgotten about Angel! Oh, she felt so _selfish_. "I'm sorry, Angel! Did you want something too?"

He slapped his hand to his forehead. His sister was clinically insane. Seriously. Why did Bobby have to make him come out here? He should have sent Jerry. Jerry was good with children. Even though this one was more childish than his two put together. He shook his head at her, "That's fine, Hannah, I'll just pick at yours." Rolling his eyes, he passed the clerk the money for the gas before all the junk food was put through. "Answer me this, though – how do you _not_ weigh three hundred pounds?"

The girl grinned immaturely. Quoting something she'd told somebody many years before, she informed him, "Mom says I have a high metabolism." Okay, she didn't have the ability to say 'metabolism' in grade five, but she'd tried to say it anyway. "Besides," she stretched her arms out over her head, reaching up and standing on her toes momentarily, "I work out. No, don't worry Angel, I hardly ever have junk food fits anymore. You just bring out the teenager in me."

"Great to know," he groaned as he collected the change from the cashier. After shoving it into his pocket, he proceeded to grab two bags in each hand, leaving three more for his sister to retrieve. Leading the way, he exited the gas station, smirking when Hannah cursed him for not holding the door open and allowing it to nearly smack her in the face. He had to transfer the bags all to one hand in order to get into the vehicle, and dropped them all to the floor once he slipped in. "Gotta admit," he mumbled to himself while rooting through the 'goods', "she's got good taste."

Hannah grinned, seeing the faintest curve of what appeared to be a smile on his face. She, too, slid into the car, though into the driver's seat, and deposited her three bags onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. "So, how're the goods, Angie?"

He reached ahead of himself and tapped her rather forcefully atop her head, earning a startled shout. "Stop calling me that!" he snapped at her demand of the purpose of his action. "And they're pretty good. Good to know you haven't been – God forbid – eating _healthy_ in Mom's and our absence." Angel gave a guttural laugh as his sister started the Volvo, wrapping her blanket around his own legs.

Another number of hours, three bags of chips, one and a half bags of cookies, seven chocolate bars, two bottles of Pepsi, and five milkshakes later, they were entering Detroit. They had switched positions approximately half an hour prior, to allow Hannah to take in the sights of the city where she'd grown up and the area around it. And boy, had she missed it. Sure, she had some pretty bad occurrences here, but the good outweighed the bad. She remembered most of it too, but not the things that had been added in the five years since she'd left. Five years…

"That's our old high school, huh? Looks like it's gone down the shitter," she mumbled, gazing at a rundown old building, teeming with groggy, just-arrived teenagers as she rolled down the window. She always enjoyed the cold, unlike Angel. Something about it comforted her. To her, it had never been too cold. It could have been minus 40°C and she would still have ventured out, pending there was a decent reason. She breathed in the familiar Detroit air, allowing it to activate a long-ignored part of her brain.

He snorted, countering, "Baby girl, it was gone down the shitter when we went there." Increasing the vehicle's heat, Angel sped up to avoid the early morning school rush. Not only were the school busses arriving, but people were dropping off their children/younger siblings and the like, and some teenagers were driving themselves to school. He, personally, was surprised there wasn't an accident every morning. However, people tended to love their vehicles and were more careful and protective of their cars than themselves or their family. Strange, how some people's minds worked. "Frankie G's the bartender over there now," he informed his sister, pointing to one of their often-visited taverns.

Hannah examined it, remembering the times she'd snuck in there, only to be discovered by Bobby, who'd been furious at the bouncer for letting her in. But Jimmy had always made sure she wouldn't get into any trouble; there was a mutual respect and protection between the two of them, even if Jimmy was seven years her senior – which never made the oldest Mercer sibling happy, despite knowing their relationship. Leaning her head out the open window, she muttered, "I guess I'll have to drop in this week, congratulate him. Jimmy still work there?"

Her adoptive brother nodded affirmatively, accepting the cookie she gave him. As they drove up another street, he pointed out a house. "That's Jeremiah's house. He's probably over at Ma's though, waiting for us. He wanted to join in on the punishment of you."

She laughed, knowing none of her brothers could ever truly hurt her. Physically, at least. Mentally, she'd gone through hell just growing up with them; there wasn't much more they could do there. And besides, she had her own weapons… but with Mom home, they wouldn't even push her around a little. Which reminded her – the pancakes… "Hey, Angie. Stop here a minute, would you?" she requested suddenly, spotting a familiar house. Her brother obeyed, not recognizing the place, but letting her be.

Hannah pulled on her long-since-discarded sneakers before sliding out of the Volvo. A smile spreading across her face, she hopped up, almost jovially, the walkway until she arrived at the door. She knocked once, twice, three times, waiting between each knock, long enough to be certain that either the people weren't awake – unlikely, she told herself – or they weren't home. With a shrug, she pulled one of the envelopes out of the mailbox and – using the pencil hidden in her hoodie's pocket that she normally reserved for doodling when she was bored – scribbled a quick note onto it. It read simply, '_Hey. I'm back. Call me at Mom's._' followed by her signature fancy 'H'.

"Whose house is that?" Angel demanded to know once his sister was back in the car and they were once again on the move. She shrugged off his query, turning her attention back to the streets.

In a matter of minutes, they were home. To the house she'd grown up in. She stepped out of the vehicle and sat on its hood, just staring up at the building which held so many memories for her. Every square inch of it meant something to her; although it looked as though it had gone through hell recently. Briefly, she wondered what trouble Jack had gotten himself into – because it was obvious to her that the event in which the youngest brother had gotten shot and whatever had happened to the Mercer abode had been the same incident. She wasn't that out of tune.

The first time she'd come here, she'd been only ten years old, and had lost all hope of finding a permanent home, much less a family. She was just waiting until she was eighteen and could get out on her own without trouble. This time, she was twenty-seven years old, had a permanent home and an out-of-state abode, and was returning to her family.

She could already smell her mother's chocolate chip pancakes. The same as ever. Her favourite breakfast, of course; Evelyn made them for her on nearly every special occasion. She allowed her eyes to drift up and down the street; a few remodeled houses, a couple empty lots filled, but nothing really different. There were even a couple of hockey nets pushed off to the side of the road. Damn, she hadn't played hockey in _years_ – but Bobby would likely change that rather quickly, she assured herself. Her skills might by a little rusty, but she could still hold her own. She hoped. Bobby would give her hell if she couldn't.

Angel hopped onto the Volvo, sitting next to her, and pulled her into him, afraid she might freeze. Or afraid he might freeze; it was hard to tell. He could tell by the subtle changes in her expressions – ones she herself likely didn't notice – every thought that went through her mind. Resting his chin gently on her shoulder, he muttered into her ear, "He's already got a game lined up for this weekend. And he'll have more, if he thinks you've still got skill."

She let out an amused breath, ignoring it when it rose in front of her. "Some old Bobby," she mumbled, smirking. "Always wanting to show off."

He pulled her hood up over her head and playfully tightened the strings of the hood so the opening around her face shrank. Laughing as she hit him with almost no force, he pulled her sideways, causing her to practically fall into his lap. She whined high-pitchedly (she could have put any dog to shame), pushing herself off of him. "What a baby," Angel teased her, poking her arm. "You still awake, baby girl?"

"Of course!" she half-shouted, jolting into an upright sitting position, swatting at Angel's hand. "I could stay up until tomorrow morning if I wanted to. Just like in high school. I was never like _you_ lazy asses. With your sleeping in until the afternoon and needing sixteen hours of sleep and stuff." She glanced up the street once again to see a bunch of kids burst forth from a house three houses away, all of similar age. "Calandra Ford doesn't still live there, does she? Any of those hers?"

Angel shook his head, following the children with his eyes as they began readying the street for a game of hockey. "Nope, Cal doesn't live there anymore. She moved in with Luke Thomas, over by the school; they're married now. See those two boys in the red coats? They're hers. Her little brother, Kyle, owns that place now. That girl over there, dragging the net over, is his. The mom left a month or so after she started school, left the kid with Kyle. Mom helped him out a lot." He slid off the Volvo, hand on her arm, forcing her off as well. "Come on, let's go meet your fate."

Hannah sighed, shaking out her head and arms as her feet steadied her on the ground. Self-consciously, she combed through her hair with her half-frozen hands, attempting to make it not look horrible. She tugged on the bottom of her hoodie to smooth it out and shook out her legs to rid her jeans of any big wrinkles. Slipping a hand into one of Angel's gloved ones, she climbed the stairs towards the house two at a time. "Fate," she muttered to herself, eyes shining with mirth at the sight of her breath rising before her. "Fate's bullshit. Choice is everything."

He turned his gaze down to her momentarily. Nodding to himself, he turned the doorknob slowly, and opened the door to the Mercer abode. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes wafted through the air, and he noted Hannah's smirk out of the corner of his eye. Suppressing a frown, he quietly took off his sneakers and jacket, returning them to their rightful places, and instructed her to do the same.

It was just as she remembered it, except possibly a bit messier. The smell of her mother's cooking in the air, the sound of a hockey game in the background, mixed with her brothers' bickering. Just like she remembered. Obeying her brother's instructions, she took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she called out, "I'm baaaack!"

"Get your ass in here, asshole!" called a voice (unmistakably Bobby's) from the living room, after a moment's delay.

She snickered. "Yeah, I love you too. Dickhead." Releasing a breath, she walked into the entrance to the living room, only having a second to take in the sight – Bobby, his old hockey jersey on, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching the hockey game; Jerry, leaning back in the chair opposite the entryway to the porch, eyes glued to the small television; and Jack, sitting on the floor, guitar in his lap – before the youngest brother placed his guitar on the floor, leapt over the table, and tackled her to the floor.

"My God Hannah! You're back! You have no idea what I've been through! Don't you ever leave me with them, ever again! It's like hell on Earth! Nobody should ever be fucking subjected to that!" His arms were wrapped around her neck, his face buried in her hair, as he lay atop her on the floor.

She childishly pretended to gasp for air. "My Jesus Jackie-poo! You must've been eating a shitload while under couch arrest! You weight a ton, get off of me!" Rolling over so that she was on top of him, she sat up, perched on his thighs, and grinned down at him. "I still love ya, though, even if you are fatter than Bobby."

"Speaking of…" Angel muttered.

Hannah and Jack looked up at him, and he turned his gaze to the living room. She rose off of Jack, extended her hand to him, and pulled him off of the floor. That being done, she turned around to see Jerry leaning against the entrance to the living room, smiling softly, and Bobby not two feet in front of her, a scowl on his face that would turn even some of the most hardened criminals into stuttering, nervous children. Hannah, however, allowed her grin to widen upon seeing the eldest two brothers. Jeremiah nodded at her, and she winked at him, before fixing her gaze on the scowling man in front of her. "And hello to you too, Bobby dearest."

* * *

_Didja like it? Hey? Didjadidja? Whether you did or not, whether you have any constuctive criticism or not, and whether you want to be killed when I take over the world or not, press that review button, please? I'll love you forever! Maybe. And just so you know, any and all flames will be used to make smores for Jack, Daniela, and Amelia. A great big thank you to everybody who read last chapter, and a great big thank you in advance to those reading this one. And hugs for everybody who did and will review! _

Now, for my lovely little reviewer people whom I adore with all my heart:  
Duchess4ever: Thank you! That's always WONDERFUL to here. And I adore Hannah, personally. She kicks ass. But she has so many little secrets... maybe if I start consistantly updating we'll find some of them out!... which would happen if school weren't such a bitch... but hey. Anyway, Thank you! hugs  
Walter: WALTER!... hi. Thanks! hugs There's a little bit of interaction between the siblings at the end of this chapter. Doncha just love Jack? Of course you do.  
pwrhungryjr: Thank you so much! I'm so happy you missed it!... why does that sound mean in my head? Anyway. Here's some more to read if you want! hugs  
bree3354: And I updated again! Shazam! Thanks fer yer review. hugs  
HeavenlyKitten: Well great! I am looking forward to another review! hugs And thank you to you as well!

: Thank you! That's always WONDERFUL to here. And I adore Hannah, personally. She kicks ass. But she has so many little secrets... maybe if I start consistantly updating we'll find some of them out!... which would happen if school weren't such a bitch... but hey. Anyway, Thank you! hugs: WALTER!... hi. Thanks! hugs There's a little bit of interaction between the siblings at the end of this chapter. Doncha just love Jack? Of course you do.: Thank you so much! I'm so happy you missed it!... why does that sound mean in my head? Anyway. Here's some more to read if you want! hugs: And I updated again! Shazam! Thanks fer yer review. hugs: Well great! I am looking forward to another review! hugs And thank you to you as well! 


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